Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Three

A proper Sunday breakfast: bacon and eggs and hashbrowns and fruit. I must be hungry. Too bad the coffee is weak.

He says that there some more fruit on the ground. I walk out and pick up a few lemons from the ground. I tug on a few of the lemons still on the tree but none of them give. I walk over to the orange and inspect. Nothing that looks ripe enough yet. Then I move on to the Pomelo. I grab one that’s already on the ground.

Soft morning light. There will be rain.

Create with Joy.

Create with Courage and Joy.

This is the kind of slowness on a Sunday I love.

“Can I make pavlovas?” “No.” “I mean, yes. There is enough time.” There is usually enough time. I’m trying to work on that reflexive “no.”